


Pernox

by dragonofeternal



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, M/M, Magi Big Bang 2017, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-01 04:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofeternal/pseuds/dragonofeternal
Summary: Imprisoned and staring down his death, Sinbad fights for his life with his greatest weapon: stories.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the pairings tagged in this take place as the stories Sinbad is telling- each of these stand alone and are tagged in the order they appear, so if you just want content for your ship, feel free to skip to that chapter.

There were few things Sinbad couldn't get out of with a smile and story. He had built a fortune of wealth and joy on stories- tales of might and magic, wit and folly; greed and lust and wrath and kindness, and, of course, true love. And his own deeds? Well, they spoke for themselves in the stories that followed after him. He was a hero. A heartbreaker. A world changer. Sure, he might have made enemies along the way, but it is a poor man indeed who makes his way through life without ever having believed in something so passionately that another man hated him for it. Enemies were as much a sign of a life well lived as friends. And while every well-lived life deserves a well-done death, he had never imagined it would end like this, with him trapped in a high prison tower and all other possible endings blowing away like grains of sand in the breeze. 

Sinbad's death had cold eyes the color of irons, and those eyes held no option for pardon.

He looked the intruder up and down, not letting his nerves move the welcoming smile from his face. "Wine?" he offered, gesturing to the decanter and cups on the small table between him and the door. The man shook his head, and Sinbad shrugged. "All the more for me then." He lifted his cup, tipped it towards the other man as though toasting him, and then took a hearty swig. "So. Is it common practice here to send someone wearing a familiar face to kill prisoners before they can face trial, or did you just decide on that face because you thought it would upset me." 

"I think you know why I'm here, Sinbad," the man replied, and his voice was cold and steady as steel.

Sinbad regarded him over the rim of his cup, smile gone. "Have a seat." 

"I'm here to make you disappear," the man clarified.

"I know." Sinbad leaned against the table, the chain of his shackles clinking as he did so. "But I figure I get a few final words, don't I? My trial and public execution aren't supposed to be until dawn, after all, and I'm sure an illustrious kingdom such as this wouldn't allow a star prisoner like me to die without spectacle." 

The man made no motion to sit. "And what has you so convinced that I'm an agent of theirs?" 

Sinbad considered the question as he traced the man's face with his eyes, and, below that, Sinbad could see a glimmer of steel in the man's hand. Instead of answering, Sinbad simply smiled and gestured to the other chair once more. 

"Let me tell you a story."


	2. The Tale of the Good King

Once upon a time, which is as good a way to start a story as any, there was a young man named Sinbad who lived in a village by the sea. He was a handsome man, with sun-kissed skin and bright eyes, whose wit and charm captivated all who spoke to him. Orphaned at a young age, he was a child of the village and of the sea: a man equally at home on water or land. 

And on this time, this day so long ago and yet not so distant at all, a storm was raging. Even though it was day, the sky was black as pitch, and below the darkened sky the sea was a coarsely chopped mess of waves and swells. Sinbad scowled at the scene from within his home- a modest affair like the rest of the houses in his village, sitting astride a dock he had built himself a few years prior when the old one had been washed away in a storm like this. This weather was trouble. If the storm continued, houses could be lost or ships dragged away. 

Sinbad stepped out onto his dock to make sure his own boats were well attached. The rain drenched his clothes in an instant, and slicked his long hair to his face. Sin pushed his bangs from his face as he checked the lines. All good- no sign that they'd slip. He'd sleep easier tonight knowing that his livelihood was safe. As he turned to go back inside, something in the swells caught his eye. Sinbad turned back, squinting at the waves. 

But the waves were empty. "Funny," he said, "I thought I saw someone out there. Must have been-" And then the figure returned- a lone person out in the waves. Sinbad's heart raced into action, and before he had time to even think, he had stripped off his soaked shirt and dived into the water to save them.

The water was cold as ice, but Sinbad was used to chill seas. His truest enemies were the waves, giant things he had to dive under to avoid being drowned by as he sliced his way through to the unconscious figure in the drift. He reached the man as fast as he could, but before he could grab hold, they were both buffeted by a wave. Sinbad held his breath, but the man in the water took the wave full force. Sinbad reached out while they were still underwater, wrapping an arm around the man's chest and pulling them both back up. They surfaced, but the man in his grip did not take a full gasp of precious air as Sinbad did. 

Sinbad towed him back to shore as fast as he could, but each swell of the water threatened to end them both. Still, Sinbad could see the best line through the currents, knew these seas and their anger well enough to swim through the storm to bring them back to the dock, where Sinbad threw the man up and then crawled up after him, panting from the exertion. 

He crawled over the man, pressing a hand to his neck to feel for a pulse. Still alive- good. Next he felt for breath- none. Sinbad lifted the man's head gently and bent over him. Their lips pressed together as he breathed for the man. Once, twice, then compressing his chest, then back to breathing for him, until the man gave a horrible, sputtering cough and rolled over, vomiting seawater and shaking. His dark hair hung in a lank curtain around his face, and Sinbad was struck with his beauty. 

The man lifted his head, staring at Sinbad with a wild gaze. "...Golden eyes…" he groaned, and then collapsed again, unconscious. Sinbad gathered the man in his arms and carried him inside, laying him gently by the fire. In the light he was even more handsome, with fine features and a lithe body. At his neck was clasped a golden choker set with a bright red stone, and his wrists were encircled with similar fineries. Sinbad grabbed a spare blanket and toweled him as dry as he could manage before tucking the man into his own bed. 

As the day wore on, Sinbad tried to keep himself occupied, but his thoughts kept returning to the man sleeping in his bed. How had he ended up in the storm? Where had he come from? What was his name, and was he interested in handsome sailors? But the man in his bed slept on, offering Sinbad no answers.

Night brought with it clear skies- a brief respite before the storm returned, fiercer than before. Sinbad slipped outside to get some fresh air and stretch his legs, tired of being cooped up in his house. The storm would continue- for now he wanted to get some work-

"Don't tell me you're about to go off adventuring without me," came a lilting voice from behind him. 

Sinbad whirled around to see the strange man he'd rescued idling against his house. The man gave him a lazy little wave, a smile playing across his lips. Sinbad laughed and straightened from his work. "You're awake. I was starting to worry you'd never wake up."

The man laughed, running a hand through the loose hair about his face. "I'm fond of naps. It's my prerogative. So, Sinbad, have you ever thought you were meant for more than this? Want to go on an adventure with me?"

Sinbad gave him a curious look. "Excuse me?" 

The man shrugged. "You heard me. You deserve better than this crap." He kicked a pile of rope and it went spilling across the dock. "Tying knots, catching fish, haven't you ever felt like you were meant for more?" 

Sinbad laughed, running a hand through his hair. "You know there's a lot more to sailing and fishing than that, right? It takes a lot of work." 

"I don't really care?" 

"Did you just say that as a question, or is that just the cadence of your voice?" Sinbad stooped to gather the rope back up. What a mess. He was going to have to deal with this guy; this town was too small to support two cocky troublemakers. 

"Maybe I'll just keep asking questions until you answer my first one." The man stooped as well, tapping his finger into Sinbad's nose.

Sinbad shrugged. "I guess when I was a young boy I thought there would be more grand adventures, but then the wars came, and after that the illnesses… Not too many people left here who can work, so the burden of caring for the town falls to those of us who will rise up to their duty."

The man laughed, flopping backwards on his butt. "Well then do I have good news for your inner child." His red eyes seemed almost to glow in the gloom. "Because you do have a destiny bigger than this dump. Bigger than you could imagine, even." 

Sinbad felt a shiver run through his body. It was a tempting thought, and in this moment, bathed in starlight and staring into the eyes of this strange man he'd rescued from the swells, it seemed like an almost possible one. A playful smirk quirked up the corner of his mouth. "And what kind of destiny could that be?" 

The man stood in a flash, turning from Sinbad and starting back towards land. "Follow me," he teased, "and you'll find out." 

Sinbad looked at his house, then his boat, then the stormy sky, and finally after the man who was rapidly disappearing into the night's gloom. "Can I at least know your name first?" 

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder to look curiously at Sinbad. "It's Judal."

* * *

No one would be able to sail for awhile with that storm brewing, Sinbad rationalized to himself, and Judal assured him that after their adventure was over, Sinbad would be able to help his dinky little village far more than a day or two's fish would. Sinbad grabbed what he could before following Judal- his disappointingly light coin purse, his father's old sword, and a loose bag to carry things in that he didn't have time to fill. He had to run to catch up with Judal, and thus the two set out, walking through the night and then on till dawn, Judal's bouncing step seeming tireless. The first few hours had been hard for Sinbad, but once the sun had started to rise the light gave him a second wind and he pushed onwards as though he had never faltered. 

"So Judal," Sinbad said as they crested a hill. "What is this adventure you've invited me along for?" 

Judal smiled. "Isn't the mystery part of the fun?"

"Well-" Sinbad sputtered a little. "Well, yes, mystery's part of it, but a mystery isn't fun unless you have all the pieces to put it together." 

"Fair point," Judal replied, but he didn't elaborate.

Sinbad scowled. "This whole trip is going to be pulling teeth, isn't it?" 

"Oh, is that what you're into?" Judal teased. "I was wondering how you had such perfect ones. It's like a palace wall they're so even." 

"Hey!" Sinbad laughed. "Okay, how about we try a different question then… how did you end up in that storm?"

That silenced Judal, and not in the impish way he had refused to speak before. Sinbad watched him chew over the question in his mind before he spoke. "I misjudged a landing," he said, "but it worked out. I ended up exactly where I needed to be."

"And that is?" 

Judal stopped and stared Sinbad in the face with the same intensity he'd had when he awoke from drowning. Sinbad wondered if he'd said something wrong, or if there was something else going on beyond what he knew. "By your side," Judal said finally. "The moment I saw your eyes I knew you were exactly the man that I have been looking for." He turned, his serious look gone in an instant, and the mischievous grin back in its place. "We're almost to our waypoint- there's a transport stone in not too long ahead, and that can jolt us closer to the kingdom!" 

"I- what?" Sinbad felt a stupid, surprised grin spread on his face. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"And that's why I'm the wizard here." Judal sounded entirely too pleased with himself.

"Oh, you're a wizard, huh? Why didn't you magic yourself to safety then?"

"I told you, my spell already put me exactly where I needed to be. And now, Sinbad, I'm going to take you where you need to be." 

Sinbad shrugged and laughed, letting Judal lead the way. He was a strange man, to be sure, and if Sinbad were a wiser man, he'd have worried about trusting him on this adventure. But as it was, he was far too interested to see what Judal had planned to back out now. 

They reached a clearing paved with a loose layer of pebbles, and in the center stood a tall white rock that pierced the sky. Judal lead them up to it, placing his hand on the rock and then looking back at Sinbad. 

"So tell me, Sinbad," Judal said, suddenly serious once more. "Do you accept responsibility for your actions from here out?"

Sinbad raised his eyebrows. "I was under the impression that I was already doing that." 

Judal laughed. "I'm just saying, once we pass through to the kingdom there will be no turning back. What happens there will change you- probably for good." 

Sinbad felt his pulse quicken, but he did not falter. "How so?"

Judal's face split into an even wider grin. "I have come here to find you, to bring you to meet your destiny! Even if I wanted to tell you that you were a-" and with that his mouth suddenly snapped shut, and Judal made a frustrated face, working his lips like they had been sewn shut. When they opened again- "Augh! Fine, see? I can't even say it. The magic protecting and sealing all of this is too strong. But I can tell you this- I owe you a life debt. I wouldn't willfully hurt you. And yeah, your life is gonna change, and yeah, I can't promise it'll wholly be for the better. I can't see the future. But what's waiting for you? It's got the power to make things a hell of a lot better for you." 

Sinbad considered all of that… but not perhaps as long as he should have. He put a hand on Judal's shoulder and nodded. "What point would there be in only coming up to the first dull checkpoint? Take me to my destiny."

"That's what I wanted to hear," Judal cackled, and the stone began to glow under his hand, power rippling through the air as spiderwebs of crackling force splintered across the stone's face. And then there was a great jolt, like being bucked from the back of a horse, and the two of them landed in a crumpled heap in a thorny rose bed. "Ooof… I really need to get better at my landings…" 

Sinbad opened his mouth to say something back, but then Judal's elbow slammed into his gut, knocking the wind out of him. Judal clambered out of the bush, dusting off his clothes. Sinbad grumbled as he followed suit, his clothes snagging on the thorns. "Where are we?" he finally managed to ask, looking around. They appeared to have landed in some long-forgotten courtyard. The walls were overgrown with strange, flowerless vines, and the cobblestones of the yard were cracked and half covered with dirt and moss. 

"A forgotten kingdom," Judal said. "Ah, apparently that's vague enough to not set off the spell. "Would you believe this place has only been abandoned for a few decades? Amazing what a well-wrought curse can do… Well, no sense dwelling! Come along!" 

And then Judal was off again, and Sinbad took one more moment to take in the strange melancholy of the yard before following after him. Wherever they were going, Judal seemed to know the way, moving with confidence through winding walls and under trellises until the garden finally birthed them before a grand door. 

"What do you remember about your parents?" Judal asked as he hopped up to the door, giving it a futile tug. Locked.

Sinbad shrugged, watching Judal scurry about. "My father died before I was born, and my mother followed him a few years after giving birth to me. I barely remember her face." Maybe it was the strange, quiet sadness of this forgotten place, or maybe it was the feeling of freedom that speaking to a stranger who will not judge your story gives, but Sinbad found himself going on. "I remember her voice though. She always used to tell me stories of my father like he was a great, brave hero, and I remember listening for hours and hours until I fell asleep." He placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, tilting it slightly. "This was my father's, before he died."

"Well that certainly makes things less complicated," Judal said, stepping away from the door. "We're going to need that sword. But first-" he raised a hand, and a blast of energy blew the door straight off its hinges, "we're going to need to reach the throne room." 

This time following Judal was a madcap dash that left Sinbad no time to acclimate to his surroundings or drink in the atmosphere. They slid around corners, dashed up stairs, and passed in and out of rooms, Judal like a hound on the hunt for a fox. 

"Wouldn't the throne room logically be on the main floor?" Sinbad asked as they dashed up another flight of stairs. 

"This is a forgotten place," Judal replied, rounding a corner so sharply that Sinbad almost smacked into the wall instead. "And so, it's forgotten how to exist. We just need to get high enough that the magic will be thinner, and we can unlock the door." 

"Is that how it works?" Sinbad jumped over a fallen suit of armor. 

"Hopefully!"

They raced up another flight of stairs, this one winding up and up in tighter and tighter circles until it felt like every step was an about face violently flinging them upwards. Judal's step faltered, and Sinbad caught him under the arm, half carrying him up the next few steps when suddenly there wasn't another step, and they stumbled face first into a landing. The hall was filled with even more of the strange, sad stillness that had overtaken the garden. The sound of their fall was like a violent intrusion, and Sinbad picked himself up as quietly as he could, looking around. The faces of long forgotten kings stared back at him- portraits he couldn't quite train his eye on well enough to memorize their features. 

Judal rose almost as quietly, the only sound the clinking of his jewelry. "We did it," he whispered, looking over at Sinbad. "I've never made it here alone, not since it was lost." 

Sinbad turned from the portraits and stared down the landing hall to a grand door in a mighty archway. "And that's the throne room?" 

"Your throne room," Judal clarified.

Sinbad whipped his head to gape at Judal, but Judal was staring straight ahead.

"The lost prince of a forgotten kingdom, the only son of the queen who was spirited away before the spell's final words could be spoken. An heir to a throne that none can recall, a throne that has stood empty, devoid of king or kingly symbol." Judal turned, but he did not look Sinbad in the eye. "You said that sword belonged to your father?"

Sinbad's hand flew to the hilt. 

Judal laughed. "Follow me just a little longer. Follow me and trust me." They walked down the hall to the grand arched doors. "Now," Judal turned to Sinbad, "you have to kiss me." 

"What?" Sinbad gaped at Judal.

"I have the key," Judal said slowly, "to free it, you have to kiss me. Then we can open the throne room, and you can place the sword of the king in its rightful place, waking-"

Sinbad put a hand behind Judal's head, leaning in to kiss him. Judal's lips were petal-soft, and he made the softest noise of surprise as Sinbad gripped his dark hair, deepening the kiss. Then a tingle of magic passed between them, and Sinbad pulled away. Judal stared at him, half dazed, his bright eyes fuzzy with some sort of emotion that Sinbad didn't dare to name. And then Judal doubled over, coughing.

"Judal!" 

"I'm fine-" Judal sputtered. "I'm-" he spat into his hand. "I'm fine." He straightened and held up a tiny golden key to Sinbad. 

Sinbad took the key with reverence and turned to the door. "Thank you." He opened the door and strode forth. The air in the throne room was heavy, but Sinbad held his head high as he walked. The throne of his father, no, his own throne, called to him, and above it, there hung a mount to lay the sword as symbol of his kingly power. Sinbad drew the sword from its sheath. He had never really thought it all that impressive, but perhaps that was better for a king- a sword that would remind its wielder never to think himself better than the rest of the his people. For what was a king but a citizen of fate?

Sinbad laid the sword in its home. Unbidden words bubbled from his throat- "Your king has returned."

"Glory to Sindria," Judal echoed behind him. "Glory to freedom." 

All around, the air lightened- walls cleared of ancient dust, the sky brightened, and the oppressive silence broke with a delicate thread of birdsong. Outside the kingdom was waking, a bright dawn revealing a land that was lush and new and old all at once. Sinbad turned around to find Judal standing at attention behind him. There were no words to describe the feeling that welled within his chest as he looked upon him, and so he leaned down and kissed Judal once again. This time, Judal kissed him back.


	3. Chapter 3

"His kingdom secured, the good King Sinbad had now the pleasant and honorable duty of surrounding himself with wise counsel," Sinbad proclaimed, gesturing to the outside world. In the course of his story he had risen from the table, traveling to the window as the wiseman and the prince in hiding had travelled to their distant kingdom. "This next part of the story gets pretty interesting too, because we get to expand our cast of characters and-"

"A question-" the man interrupted. "Does spewing so much shit make your mouth taste like a horse's ass?"

Sinbad jolted from his storytelling and whipped around to see the man had finally taken a seat at the table. He stared at Sinbad, lips poised on the edge of a cup of wine, and a single pale brow arched, waiting. Sinbad crossed his arms (or did his best, given the shackles.) "Usually people love that one."

"People have terrible taste." The man took a drink from his cup and grimaced. "Much like this wine."

"Sinbad laughed a little. "It really has a lovely aftertaste, doesn't it? Like making love in a canoe on a river of piss. Which is to say-"

"Enough." The man once again had his weapon in hand. "I came here for a purpose." 

"You're right!" Sinbad proclaimed. "But I never answered your question- No, my mouth does not taste like a horse's ass, call it a hunch that you're an agent of this kingdom, annnd…." he levelled a finger at the assassin. "You're enjoying hearing my tales." 

The man said nothing, but the flash of a knife still twirled in his hand. Sinbad watched it as though it were a venomous snake. He'd already paced and assessed the room before this man had shown up. Two chairs, a table with wine and stale bread for a final meal, a chamberpot, and a crackling fire carefully secured behind a grate to keep him for escaping out a chimney or gaining a weapon from the burning embers. There wasn't even a pallet to lay down on, and the only way in or out was the door. The window was less there to afford a view and more a slender crack in the masonry for archers to shoot through in case of an attack. All in all, a poor, poor place to have a fight. 

Not that he couldn't try, that was. He could fight. The chairs were heavy enough that they'd probably daze a man as slight as this one if Sinbad broke one over his head. The chamberpot was another option; it could be thrown, or the table upended. He might be able to throttle the man with his irons if he could get close enough. 

Try. Probably. Might. If.

None were words worth betting on in a time like this. The man in front of him was sharp enough to have also run those gambits through by now. He knew any trick this room could afford, and before Sinbad could get close that flash of steel would snake through the air and strike him dead. No, fighting was no option at all. Sinbad could trust only in his first and chiefest weapon.

Words were a blade no man could take from him.

"If you knew my story was a lie," Sinbad said, "then why don't I tell you the real one?"

Something resembling a smile flashed across the man's face. "The real one? I didn't know you were capable of telling the whole truth."

Sinbad feigned shock, placing a hand upon his chest. "You wound me, sir! I intend to tell you the true tale, exactly as I first heard it." 

"Aaah," said the man as Sinbad seated himself once more, this time straddling the chair. "Of course. You can tell me a true story as long as it's not about yourself." 

Sinbad winked as he poured himself another drink. He could bear the taste of watery piss if it could give him something to calm his nerves. "Have you ever been to Kou, my friend?"

The man shook his head, and pressed his cup forward for more wine. Sinbad filled it as he spoke.

"Fantastical country. Very different from here. It was while I was there on business to trade goods from the northernmost land of Imuchakk for Kou silks and lacquerware that I first heard this one. When we made port, even our great ship seemed like a dinghy in comparison to the imperial treasure boats." He set the wine bottle down and began to gesture with his hands. "It was there, in a smoky gambling den, that I first heard the story I… shall we say, adapted to the one I just told you."


	4. The Tale of the Wicked Prince

Somewhere in the distance, a rabbit screamed as some predator ended its life. Hakuryuu paid the sound little mind. The path to the temple of the Kirin had been all but swallowed by the forest, and he had to pick his steps deliberately to avoid twisting his ankle in foxholes or underbrush. Here and there, he could see signs of where his father had laid his step- a shattered spirit house here, a crumbling stair there- and those remnants served as his map. 

Hakutoku had not needed a map to find the Kirin, and had the first prince lived, Hakuryuu was sure he would not have needed one either. Hakuryuu was not a great man like them, and he did not have anything that a godly creature would find worthy. He hopped from one stone to the next, weaving his way up the steep forest path. Such things did not matter. He would find the Kirin, and he would be acknowledged. He passed under the remnants of a shrine gate, the true sign he was still going the right way, and up ahead he could see another where the ground levelled out. Hakuryuu pushed himself onward- he could rest when he reached that gate, to resume his search in the morning. It was so close now…

Hakuryuu gasped at what he saw through the gate.

Before him laid a temple overgrown with earth, its doors chained shut and then tied shut again with consecrated ropes and paper seals. The air held a charge of power that took Hakuryuu's breath away. Eight days and eight nights he had searched, and now, here, he seemed to have finally reached his goal. He crept forward to the temple entryway, barely daring to breathe. He laid his hands upon the ropes, feeling here the sinister twist of his mother's magic. 

"Disgusting," he whispered, shaking his head. Sleep could wait- exhaustion pushed from his mind by the tantalizing promise of his goal. He drew his sword from its sheath, meditating on its weight, on its power as an instrument of his will. In, out. In and out again. The blade began to glow as he concentrated, and he swung, the rope and chains melting away beneath his strike. The very wind itself seemed to hold its breath as they hit the door's bonds hit the ground. Hakuryuu waited to see if there was some other recursive protection, but nothing came. The breeze picked back up, and birds began to twitter in the trees. Hakuryuu sheathed his sword and drew open the door to the temple. 

Inside the air was stagnant and cold and smelled of forgotten things. Hakuryuu held his sleeve over his mouth as he stepped inside. The only light came from the open door behind him, and soon Hakuryuu was creeping cautiously forward in utter blackness. The temple seemed to stretch infinitely forward, an unending hall filled with nothing but old smells and his own creaking footsteps. Hakuryuu decided that enough was enough and fumbled a match from his bag. The flame scratched into life, and instantly the fire was snuffed out as all around Hakuryuu lanterns flared to life from the stolen flame. 

Hakuryuu found himself moments away from tripping over the first steps to a raised dais, upon which he saw a monstrous sight.

In Hakuryuu's memories, the Kirin was a beautiful, shining thing. He had only seen the Kirin once that he had been old enough to recall- on his sixth birthday, the Kirin had appeared in court to announce the unification of his father's empire. It had been a herald to great celebration- his father and brothers arriving not long after, and Hakuyuu had born Hakuryuu up onto his shoulders and shouted with joy for how a new dawn had come for Kou. When no one was looking, Hakuryuu had stolen close enough to pet the Kirin's shining mane and gaze upon its fiery eyes. Wherever it had stepped, flowers had sprouted, and Hakuryuu had thought it the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. 

The Kirin stood motionless on the dais. Or, more accurately, the Kirin slumped on the dais, held upright only by the thick black spears that ran through its body. Hakuryuu climbed the steps and carefully drew close to the creature. Its once shining mane was black with dried blood, and the scales and fur of its lithe body looked dull.

"What did they do to you?" he whispered, gently pushing the mane from the Kirin's face. 

At the touch, the Kirin's eyes snapped open, and Hakuryuu flinched back from its fiery gaze. The Kirin made an awful noise that sounded almost like a question. They stared at each other, the Kirin waiting. Hakuryuu swallowed thickly. 

It seemed forward to touch the Kirin, to try and act as though he was worthy of it, but- "I'm going to free you," he said. "Please hold still. " 

Hakuryuu yanked a spear from the Kirin's side, and then another from its chest. The Kirin made a terrible noise of pain, but it did not attempt to struggle. It was now looking at Hakuryuu oddly, almost appraisingly. The metal of the spears felt like the chains on the door- ripe with wrongness and magical binding force. He yanked a third spear out, and the kirin adjusted itself, standing more by its own merits. 

Then a kind of magic trick happened. One moment, Hakuryuu was reaching for the final spear planted in the Kirin's leg, and the next his hand was slapped away and the Kirin was replaced with a handsome young man who was and was not the same. Hakuryuu watched as the man with the Kirin's fiery eyes pulled a spear from his own leg, straightening with a slight wobble. "Thank you for your service." He gave Hakuryuu a crooked smile as he tossed the spear aside. 

Hakuryuu could not find his words, and so he simply fell down into a deep bow, his forehead touching the floor. The Kirin crossed to him, crouching down over him. 

"You're Hakutoku's aren't you? The youngest of his. You were tiny the last time I saw you. Barely prince material, let alone the stuff of kings." He lifted Hakuryuu's face, twisting it from side to side. "Why should I stay for you?"

Hakuryuu's mouth felt dry as he stumbled to speak. "I- I am who you assume: Prince Hakuryuu, the youngest of Hakutoku's sons. I come to you now as your noble servant, for our goals are the same. I want to depose the false monarchs who imprisoned you here. I want revenge for my father and brothers." He couldn't bear to look at the Kirin's wounds, but he also did not dare meet its gaze. "I cannot help but imagine that you also want revenge for the way you must have suffered here." 

The Kirin released Hakuryuu's face, standing back up with some difficulty. "I only stay for worthy kings. So it took some persuading to get me not to leave Kou when they took mine from me." He spat out the word persuading like it was poison. "And you think you're worthy of me?"

_No,_ said the voice in Hakuryuu's head, but he forced himself to ignore it. "I think that I am the one who can give you revenge."

"Kirin are meant to abhor violence," the Kirin said in a haughty tone that seemed almost mocking. "We're symbols of harmony, of a kingdom united!" The Kirin laughed, and it made the pessimistic voice in Hakuryuu's head all the louder. But there was something awful about the laughter- something bitter and broken and hurt and hungry. The noise stopped almost as fast as it had started, and the Kirin looked back down at Hakuryuu. "We are, however, righteous and steadfast in our justice, a justice that is greater than the petty thoughts of man. And my justice does not feel very harmonious or peaceful today." He held out his hand to Hakuryuu. "I accept your offer."

Hakuryuu's head spun as he took the Kirin's hand. "Do you really mean that?" 

The Kirin smiled. "I am a creature of the utmost integrity, and I could never lie."

* * *

They made their camp on the steps of the forgotten temple, rather than within it. The Kirin was thirsty for the open air. Some of the things Hakuryuu remembered still seemed to hold true- where the Kirin stepped, flowers bloomed, and his eyes still burned like liquid fire in their sockets. But this new form, so human and yet utterly alien, was not something that matched his memory. Had this been how his father had seen the Kirin? A beautiful man of strange grace, with only suggestions of the Kirin's true nature? 

The Kirin refused Hakuryuu's offerings of food and instead helped himself to the heavy, almost spoiled peaches that sagged the boughs of the temple's trees. 

"You don't need to worry so much," the Kirin told him. "Like you said, our goals are similar. I'll judge your kingliness on my own time." 

Hakuryuu nodded. "Very well. In that case, O Noble Kirin-"

The Kirin waved a hand. "Judal is fine. Though I appreciate your noble address."

This threw Hakuryuu for a moment. He had never considered that the Kirin might have a name. "I… Of course, O Noble Judal." Judal looked as though he wanted to say something more but thought better of it at the last moment. "As I was saying, do give me the honor of your attention for a moment." Hakuryuu spread out his map. "I'm lucky to have found you so quickly. This moves up the steps of my plan considerably. From here we can begin planting the seeds of our victory by ensuring that the peasants of my current princely land holdings are contented and not planning an uprising. Once that is ensured, we will-"

"Are you serious? Peasants? Planning?" Judal looked offended. "You go to the trouble of freeing me and this is what you want me for? To follow you around playing bureaucrat while the house of Ren is twisted and besmirched by those false kings?" He pitched the remains of his peach over his shoulder and vanished inside the temple. "If you really want to make a stand, if you really want to impress me…." He reappeared with one of the cruel black spears that had bound him in hand. "Then show me blood."

In Judal's hand, the spear twisted and changed, growing longer and sprouting new, wicked spikes that twined around the rest of it. The magic in it was changing, Hakuryuu could feel it just to watch. Gone was the sick, oppressive binding magic, replaced with a riotous, domineering force. In the center of the twisting black skewers, a red gem like the Kirin's flaming eye materialized as Judal drove his new staff down into the map. 

"There. If you want to make a real stand, then there is where you must go." Hakuryuu stared at the fort that Judal had driven the point through. "The Liar-Prince Kouen is headed there now with his armies. If we travel swiftly, we will beat him there, and there you can make your move to prove yourself the only inheritor to the crown of Kou." Judal's words echoed like pure power in Hakuryuu's mind, dizzying and inescapable. He tried to open his mouth to protest, to argue his plans, but his Kirin was not done. "If you kill Kouen and take his armies, then we can ride for Rakushou, we can blaze a trail to remake Kou as it should have been. No more Witch-Empress. No more shadowy priests trying to steer your kingdom. Only your true and divinely inspired vision." Judal leaned down, lifting Hakuryuu's chin to force him to meet his gaze. "I believe in you, Hakuryuu. Make a stand. Kill Prince Kouen."

Judal's gaze was terrifying, this much was inescapable. His red eyes burned like fires straight into Hakuryuu's very soul. And yet, now looking at him for what felt almost like the first time, he could see the beauty he had seen as a child. In the blazing inferno of Judal's stare, Hakuryuu could see the path before him as something other than a fool's suicidal errand. He saw Kou united, he saw the evil purged, he saw Judal at his side. Hakuryuu's mouth worked wordlessly as he felt tears begin to well in his eyes. Judal smiled and wiped them away.

"No tears."

Hakuryuu rubbed at them as well. "I'm sorry. I still am a bit of a crybaby, even as a man. But…" He looked Judal square in the eyes once more. "I will. I will kill Kouen and reclaim my country." 

Judal nodded, yanking his staff from the map and sitting back down beside Hakuryuu, his head coming to rest against Hakuryuu's shoulder. "I know you will. Let's get some rest for now."

* * *

The next day, Judal and Hakuryuu set out for the fort. Their departure from the forgotten temple was hard, and the path twisted in ways that did not match Hakuryuu's memories of the ascent. Judal gripped Hakuryuu's hand and lead him through the woods.

"I am your Kirin after all," he had said. "Let me guide you."

And Hakuryuu let him, trusting his life to Judal's seemingly non-existent sense of direction. The trees wove into a dense net above them, blocking out any sense of the passage of time. Their trail was unblazed, and the only evidence of their passing were the wildflowers that sprang up wherever Judal stepped. Hakuryuu clutched tight to Judal's hand, forcing himself to have faith in the power he'd sought. 

 

They emerged from the forest in the foothills of a mountain range Hakuryuu had only ever seen on maps. Stretched out before them lay the fertile valleys of the recently conquered, dotted with Kou military encampments to mark the claim. Hakuryuu looked between Judal, the forest, and the nearest fort, an incredulous look on his face. 

"Kirin truly are miracle workers," he said, bowing to Judal. 

Judal fluffed with the praise. "This willing an impossibly swift pass through a forest is a mere fraction of what I can do. The stars move for my whims, and your kingdom shall flourish for my favor." He hopped down from their rocky outcropping onto another and then down once again, making his way into the valley. Hakuryuu followed after him a bit more cautiously, mindful of loose rocks that threatened to twist and snap his ankles. Judal was as sure-footed as a mountain goat, a reminder of his true quadrupedal appearance. Or perhaps this was his true face, shown only to kings? Hakuryuu was as uncertain about that as he was of the footing. 

Their trek across the plain was horridly unguarded. Hakuryuu found himself glancing about every few paces, desperately searching the horizon for sentries. Not that there would be much he could do even if he saw them- there was nowhere to hide on the open, fertile plains, and Hakuryuu cursed the treacherous rocks they'd climbed down to get here for not extending further. Judal laughed at him. 

Hakuryuu's fears came true at high noon- a mounted patrol came riding up, swords drawn. He turned to ask Judal what they should do, but the Kirin was gone. Alone and betrayed, Hakuryuu flinched as the mounted riders drew near. 

"State your name, boy," the one at the head demanded, pushing up his helm to look at Hakuryuu.

"I…" Hakuryuu scarcely had time to tumble through his options before his was interrupted. 

"Wait a moment," said one, "I recognize you! You're Prince Hakuryuu, the last of Hakutoku's sons!" 

The sentries looked to their fellow and then back to Hakuryuu, their whole demeanor changing. Hakuryuu cursed his scars for making him so easily recognized. 

"What are you doing out here all alone, Your Highness? You could get captured by brigands, or worse, dissatisfied Gai vermin!" The man at the head of the pack dismounted, coming over to Hakuryuu. 

"I was travelling incognito," Hakuryuu replied quickly. "I needed to speak with General Kouen of urgent matters in Rakushou, and I did not trust a large party to make it here swiftly or discreetly." 

The head sentry nodded. "Take my horse then. We'll accompany you back to fort." 

There followed a somewhat comical shuffling of horses that let the head sentry and Hakuryuu ride solo and left the other two doubled up on the remaining horse. Hakuryuu looked out over the plains, wondering where Judal had gone, and then spurred his horse to action. The horses made the trip over the plains far swifter, their hoofbeats swallowing up the distance with ease. The sentries made little conversation, seemingly satisfied that Hakuryuu's words were urgent and for Kouen's ears only. The fort rose from a speck on the horizon to an imposing force, crimson flags streaming from its ramparts. They paused briefly at the gate as the sentry announced himself, and then Hakuryuu was within.

It was not like the palace at Rakushou- a fortress of both beauty and strength- nor was it quite like any of the nearby outlying forts he had on occasion visited with his sister. The overall shapes were similar, but the adornment and structure were all Gai. Hakuryuu repressed a scoff. Were it him, he would have made sure that the fort looked like a proper Kou fortress by now.

They dismounted in the courtyard, and the head sentry made sign for Hakuryuu to follow after him. The inside of the fortress was military and spare of opulence- a place meant for housing men, not entertaining princes. Hakuryuu wondered idly what Judal would think of it. Were Kirin fond of opulence? Judal seemed like he might be. The sentry led him to a receiving chamber, where Hakuryuu was left alone to wait for Kouen. 

As soon as the door clicked shut, he sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. He had done it. He was in the middle of enemy territory, and no one suspected a thing. His pulse pounded in his ears, and his fingers itched for the sword at his side. Hakuryuu clenched at his hair to quell the feeling. He was right where he needed to be, but it all seemed too neat, too easy, too-

Someone drew their finger down the back of his neck. "Miss me?" Judal purred in his ear.

Hakuryuu nearly lept out of his skin, staggering back to his feet and away from Judal's touch. "Who-" He stopped his hand from drawing his sword when he realized it was just Judal. "Where were you?"

Judal cackled, straightening. "Around. A Kirin would attract too much attention, so I just made myself scarce for a bit. Have some faith!" 

Hakuryuu eyed Judal. Part of him wanted to yell, or at least chastise,but he knew Judal was far above his station. It was just that he'd never expected a Kirin to be such a capricious creature. "I do trust you. I'm just not used to relying on others." 

Judal laughed. "Well, if it makes you feel better, you're still the one driving this caravan. And look where it's gone already! You couldn't ask for a more perfect setup. We can take out Kouen, steal his army, and boom!- we're on our way to a brave new Kou." 

Hakuryuu watched Judal stalk around the room. The boldness of his words and gestures filled the room with intoxicating, claustrophobic bravado. "You make it sound so easy."

"It will be, if you're worthy."

Hakuryuu opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by the door swinging open. Kouen swept into the room, his armor clinking as he walked. Hakuryuu's eyes darted to where Judal had been, but the Kirin had thankfully made himself scarce once more. Kouen cleared his throat, and Hakuryuu jolted, turning back to bow to his elder cousin. Kouen offered a curt nod in return. 

"I was told you had urgent word from Rakushou." Kouen took a seat at the table and indicated for Hakuryuu to sit across from him. "Elaborate. I have dismissed all prying ears from the area, so you may speak freely." 

"Of course." Hakuryuu remained standing. It was not luck that brought him here, it was destiny, orchestrated by his Kirin, and he did not need to yield to Kouen's instruction. "For some time now, an evil has been growing in Kou, festering and growing ever stronger, its tendrils reaching out into every facet of government and military. The general populace is ignorant to its spread, and many of those in power are either blind to its dangers or complicit with its wickedness." 

Kouen's brow furrowed. "Speak plainly."

Hakuryuu held his head high. "I will speak at my own pace. You know full well of the evil I speak. You know because you are a part of it." Hakuryuu drew his blade and pointed it across the table at Kouen. "Draw your sword." 

Kouen stood, slamming his hands upon the table. "What you say is madness. I would never conspire against Kou in such a way." 

"It's the truth! You were complicit in the deaths of my brothers, in the coup that put your own father on the throne and in the lap of my mother. Now draw your sword!" 

Kouen opened his mouth to bellow back, but instead his face went paper-white. Hakuryuu felt Judal's presence beside him once more, draped along his shoulders like a lazy cat. He glanced to Judal, but Judal was looking at Kouen- drinking in the sight of a man so powerful and driven, every inch a storybook general-king. In another life, Kouen might have been the man Judal chose.

But other lives were not the destiny Judal had wrought. 

"My king is so honorable to give his opponent such a chance to draw," Judal chuckled, finally glancing at Hakuryuu. Hakuryuu shrugged.

"Only a coward would be dishonorable when they know destiny is on their side." He gently pushed Judal away. "Allow me to prove you made the right choice." 

Kouen's eyes were only on Judal though, and they were filled with disgust. "What," he spat, "is that." 

Hakuryuu could hardly keep himself from smirking. "I suppose someone as unfit to rule as you wouldn't know a Kirin to look upon him."

Kouen shook his head. "That is no Kirin. They don't exist in Kou anymore, and even if they did-"

"Kill him," Judal urged, and it was an order Hakuryuu did not need. He sprang to action before Kouen expected it. The quiet, withdrawn prince who wilted from confrontation and deferred to his elders was no more, and he lept up onto the table. Kouen had to dive aside, rolling when he hit the ground, to avoid having his head cleft from his shoulders. When Hakuryuu lept down, Kouen barely managed to draw in time to parry the next blow, steel clashing on steel. Kouen was stronger, and he managed to drive upwards with enough force as he stood to knock Hakuryuu off balance for a moment. The next several strikes came in quick succession, driving Hakuryuu back through the room and out into the hall. Hakuryuu focused simply on blocking, on dodging, each of Kouen's blows like a hammer upon his arms. Just because he wasn't being cleft in two didn't mean it didn't hurt. 

And so, Hakuryuu took the offensive, parrying a blow and twisting under Kouen's guard to strike. Kouen's footing faltered, and the tempo of the fight changed, Hakuryuu swinging like a madman and driving Kouen back down the hall. Kouen tried to pull a similar move to get under Hakuryuu's guard, but instead was driven further back, Hakuryuu's sword missing his face by mere breaths. Kouen retreated down the hall, always keeping his blade between himself and Hakuryuu, but there was only so far he could go. Kouen's back hit the wall, and Hakuryuu surged forward with a yell, only for Kouen to side step the mighty blow that buried the sword in the wall instead of in Kouen. 

Kouen kicked Hakuryuu in the ribs, and he went sprawling. 

"Look at yourself, Hakuryuu," Kouen shouted. "This isn't you!" 

Hakuryuu pushed himself to his feet. "Go to hell." 

"That thing has put a curse on you," Kouen said. "You're not a killer. You're-"

A blur of movement put Judal between them, and in that moment he was both the blood-blackened beast and the cruelly beautiful man. He raised a hand, and a blast of energy sent Kouen flying. Hakuryuu pushed himself to his feet, picking up Kouen's sword from where he had dropped it. His every muscle ached as he took the staggering steps to bring himself to where Kouen struggled to right himself.

"You're right, Kouen, I'm not a killer," he said, staring down at Kouen with the utmost contempt. The sword in his hands felt right as he swung down. "I'm a king."

Judal padded down the hall after Kouen's decapitated head, picking it up and then turning back to Hakuryuu. "You have blood on your hands," he said as he took one. His lips were soft as he kissed Hakuryuu's bloodied fingers, and the tongue that licked away the blood was even softer. As he pressed Kouen's decapitated head into Hakuryuu's hands, he kissed his king on the lips with a terrible softness. Hakuryuu accepted both. 

They made their way down the halls to the outer gate, and when Hakuryuu emerged, a shout went through the crowd. Anger, disgust, and fear rocked the soldiers who had been milling about, and Hakuryuu held his head high. "For too long, Kou has been weakened from within by treacherous snakes. Even you noble servants of the empire have been blinded to the wickedness around you, serving a false idol instead of the true good of our kingdom. No more!" He held Kouen's head aloft, and the sounds turned to rage and terror. "I will not let poison like this kill my people any longer. I am Hakuryuu Ren, the one true king of Kou, and I will lead you to justice!" 

Judal drew up to his side, and the crowd's rage turned to stunned silence as the men all took a knee. Judal's fingers found their place on Hakuryuu's shoulder, and he leaned in. 

"They see you for what you truly are," he whispered, "their rightful better." His grip tightened, and world seemed to close down to the two of them and the bloody path before them. "Your kingdom awaits."


	5. Chapter 5

"Gruesome." 

"Isn't it?" Sinbad laughed. "You can see why my adaptation is usually more of a hit."

The man across from him shrugged, considering his empty cup. They had finished the wine over the course of the story, and he looked almost sad to see it gone. "So did they win?"

Sinbad looked surprised. "The prince and his warped kirin?" The man nodded, and Sinbad chuckled and sighed. "I honestly don't know. We were interrupted by a government raid on our somewhat questionable establishment, and I never managed to track down the ending of the story." 

The man mulled his over for a bit. Sinbad wondered if the disappointment he read in the man's face was genuine, or if he was only seeing it there because of his own desperation. "Well then, thank you for the entertainment." The man stood. "But I now think it's high time-"

"Oh, no need to thank me," Sinbad said, waving his hand to banish the thought. If this man was disappointed at a story's end, then he would ride that. He stared into the man's eyes, yes into the gray of those eyes, like stormclouds trapped in a serpent's gaze, and not on the weapon in his hand, thirsty to open his frantic pulse onto the floor. "I'm a hero in practice, but I've always been a storyteller at heart. And Kou, why, they've so many excellent tales that never make it this far!" If he could just keep him listening, just stave off death another hour or two, surely he could find a way out. "Surely we've still time before the dawn comes? The wine may be gone, but there are still words, which are a far sweeter ambrosia than the donkey piss we have been drinking." Sinbad's eyes did not leave the man's. He would see the strike there before it happened, a flash of coldness before the order to kill reached the man's muscles. 

The look that came next was not that flash. The man scowled, almost fond, like a trusted subordinate chiding his king for foolishness. The steel had disappeared from his hand. He glanced to the window, then back to Sinbad. 

"One more," he said, sitting back down, "and then I do what I came here to do."

Sinbad looked at the man again, as he had the first time. His familiar, freckled face, the set of his jaw, the look in his eye… "Ja-"

"You had a story you seemed itching to tell." The man tapped an impatient finger on the table. "And we have only so much time before someone else comes along to kill you. Get on with it, Sin."

Sinbad swallowed. "Of course."


	6. The Tale of the Girl Who Would Be Free

It was a high honor in Kou to be married for duty. That was what Kougyoku repeated in her mind as she paced her chamber on the boat bound for Balbadd. A higher honor still for one such as herself- the youngest daughter of so many others, a daughter born of a coupling with a common whore, a daughter to the second of two brothers, who only ascended to the throne through the untimely death of his own brother. This was a high honor, bestowed upon her by fate and her own hard work. The words had become her mantra during the long voyage. She wished she could turn to Ka Kobun for council, but her adviser had been holed up in his chambers for the entire journey with a sour stomach and a sourer attitude. He'd be little comfort. Kougyoku sighed heavily and turned from the room. Perhaps fresh air would clear her head. 

The air above deck was wet and hot, but the clamor of activity made for far better company than her own thoughts. She stood clear to let a sailor pass by, his arms laden with ropes. Across the deck, she could see a sailor and a soldier sitting and talking. She marched over to join them by the rail. 

"How far are we from Balbadd?" she asked. It was a familiar question, but the passage of time and space was hard for her to track on the ship. Nothing ever happened, and every stretch of sea looked the same as the last. 

The soldier, who had a close trimmed beard that reminded Kougyoku of her eldest brother, pointed to the horizon. "Not long now, Your Highness. Look, you can see the first of the outlying islands now." 

Kougyoku leaned over the edge, squinting in the direction the soldier had pointed. "I can see them!" 

"The call them the Dragon's Teeth," the sailor added, not to be outdone by a foot soldier when speaking of the sea. "In the olden days, before the Saluja family united the kingdom, these islands crawled with pirates." 

The soldier frowned. "I don't think that's the sort of story the princess would want to hear." 

Kougyoku shook her head and drew up tall. "Nonsense! I'm not frightened of pirates, and as the future queen of Balbadd, I deserve to know their history." 

The sailor grinned in vindication. "Of course you do, your highness. Balbadd may be a peaceful place now, but in those days it was a hive of villainy. These waters off the coast are treacherous- sandbars, islands, dangerous currents, and sudden storms all vying to swallow up anyone who doesn't know their way through. Made it easy for the pirates in their shallow drafted junks to outmaneuver merchants and civilian boats, killing and stealing whenever and whatever they wished." He leaned over Kougyoku's shoulder, pointing to the islands as he spoke. "And the pirates swore their loyalty to the dragon queen Vinea. It's for her that the Dragon's Teeth are named. People livin' here still swear the dragon queen's the one that whips up the storms and rules the currents in the waters that surround Balbadd, and they give tribute to her every year in a grand festival to protect themselves from her wrath." 

"The dragon queen Vinea..." Kougyoku repeated, staring at the approaching islands. She could understand the appeal of the legend- they did look almost like fangs as they rose out of the water. "Thank you very much for the entertainment."

The sailor looked pleased, and the soldier scowled even more. "The princess must me very bored, if a sailor's fairy-stories can entertain her so." He put a hand on Kougyoku's shoulder and turned her away from the view. "Let us see if one of your attendants is available to teach you some of Balbadd's actual history. The company up here is far too busy and far to rough for an impressionable young princess."

* * *

The palace of Balbadd was an imposing structure, with a high outer wall of pale stone that surrounded an open square. The sight reminded her of the cobbled courtyard where troops would gather before the emperor went them back to war in her own home, and as she was carried through in her palanquin, she watched the movements of the turbaned guards to take her mind off the butterflies in her stomach. The procession bore her quickly from the courtyard to the inner chambers, where she was passed from her attendants to the palace's ladies in waiting, who stripped her of her travelling clothes and dunked her in a steaming bath. They washed away the weariness of the long journey, and Kougyoku could feel her apprehension melt away. Balbadd might have once been a savage den of villainy, and it was far, far from all she'd ever known, but it was a fine and civilized country. As the servants brushed out her hair, they complimented her on the color and sheen, and Kougyoku held her head high and proud. 

"What is the king like?" Kougyoku asked.

The hand of the girl painting her lips faltered. Kougyoku wasn't sure if the look of dismay came before or after. "M-my apologies, princess, allow me to-" 

An older woman waved the girl aside and took to fixing Kougyoku's lips. "King Ahbmad is the eldest of the late King Rashid's two sons. When compared next to his brother Sahbmad, he is every way the superior- more courageous, more shrewd. I'm sure he'll be a good match."

Kougyoku nodded. Yes, Balbadd would be a fine new home. She'd have a good husband, she'd still have Ka Kobun, and she would serve her country well.

It was a high honor.

Ka Kobun burst in in a huff. "Ah, good! Princess, you look radiant." He took her face and turned it from side to side. "King Ahbmad will surely be pleased to see you're as beautiful as he's been told." The man looked as proud as though he'd dressed and primped Kougyoku himself. He waved for the ladies to leave them and helped Kougyoku to her feet, leading her out into the hall. "Of course, you won't be seeing each other face-to-face until the wedding day. The King has been very gracious to consider proper Kou etiquette for your union. However, tonight he is throwing a feast in honor of your union, and people have come from all over to bring gifts. You'll be sitting to his side, as you normally would, but we've got a screen erected so that you don't accidentally catch sight of one another."

Kougyoku smiled, her heart all a flutter. Her future husband just on the other side of a screen. A party in her honor. They entered through a small door into an open hall thronged with guests, and Ka Kobun guided her up the steps to her throne. It felt strange to sit in a hall that was so open, with wide archways giving a panoramic view of the golden sun setting over the glittering sea. Kougyoku lifted her chin high. It was definitely something she could get used to.

The first party came from one of Balbadd's fellow trading nations, and they brought gifts of fine textiles to be made into dresses for Kougyoku. Another brought exotic furs and horns of great beasts, and one brought a live bird the size of a horse. Kougyoku watched in awe, trying to memorize the names of the kingdoms and their envoys so that she could remember her allies in the future. 

The next man to step forward smiled in the direction of the king and bowed, barely giving Kougyoku a second glance. "Qishan sends its fondest wishes to you for your engagement, King Ahbmad. I've brought along some of our finest wines, and I look forward to toasting your nuptials with it." 

"I look forward to it as well," the nasally voice on the other side of the curtain. "You always bring good stock, Jamil." 

Kougyoku found her attention drifting. Every successive platitude was starting to feel the same, and she did not care for this man in particular. His smile felt more like a sneer, as though he was above the whole event. She did not care to look at him any longer, and instead turned her attention to his companion. 

Even in her slave's rags, there was something breathtaking about the girl beside Jamil. The bright red of her hair made Kougyoku's seem dull, and the pampered softness of her skin was starkly contrasted by the heavy irons slapped around her wrist, irons that drew attention to the muscle that was almost masked by her slight stature. Ka Kobun caught her staring and bent down to whisper from behind his fan. 

"I doubt you've ever seen a Fanalis, have you, Princess?"

Kougyoku shook her head. 

"They're a frightening race, from far off on the Dark Continent. They have the strength of beasts, and the attitude to match. I wonder what that man did to acquire one?"

Kougyoku turned her attention back to the girl. She hardly seemed a beast, and Kougyoku found herself foolishly wishing she could talk to her.

Jamil and the slave girl approached the dais, and a pudgy hand extended from the other side of the screen, grabbing the slave's face and turning it from side to side. "Your wine is nice, but you should have brought me a good gift like this girl."

Jamil laughed. "You flatter me, King Ahbmad! But I would never give away Morgiana. She's too valuable." He put a hand on Morgiana's shoulder and squeezed. "It's almost impossible to find Fanalis as loyal to their masters as she is- but she'd probably even let me cut off her pretty nose, she's so obedient!" 

Kougyoku gasped a bit in disgust, and Jamil startled, looking over to her. 

"Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't actually scar her like that! I apologize for speaking so coarsely in front of a pretty young thing like you." In all this, the slave girl Morgiana's face never changed from a perfect, neutral stare. Jamil patted her head and smiled at Kougyoku's fiancee on the other side of the screen. "I'll see if I can't find a Fanalis for you though, King Ahbmad. They're rare, but Qishan is always happy to grow closer to Balbadd and Kou." 

"Only if it's as pretty and obedient as yours." King Ahbmad and Jamil laughed together, and Kougyoku sunk back a little into her chair, trying not to be bothered by their tone.

She was not a stranger to that sort of talk- her own father was known for his roving attentions and violent nature- but the sound of it from someone she was meant to share a bed with disturbed her. Throughout the rest of the night, she found herself thinking about the way Morgiana had been manhandled and bartered over. 

That night she lay awake in bed, the hot night air sticking her nightgown to her. The open arched balconies of Balbadd were too open, too exposed compared to what she was used to. They let in all the noise of the city, of the revelry still underway in the palace. Kougyoku slipped from her covers and walked to the balcony, staring out over the unfamiliar skyline. She knew her hesitation was just pre-wedding jitters, that her restlessness and trepidation would go away, and yet…

Kougyoku sighed and glanced down over the banister. There was another balcony not a far drop down- perhaps ten feet at most. It was hardly an insurmountable obstacle to protect a queen to be. She frowned and turned, changing from her shift into the loose fitting pants and tunic she had brought along and fastening her sword to her side. She did up her hair as best she could with the golden pin Ka Kobun had given her, and then she climbed down over the rail and dropped to the balcony below. From there it was a bit trickier- there were some guards stationed about, but there were also grand potted plants and gilded statues far larger than she was, and it was a thrill to sneak through her own palace like an assassin.

Her aimless sneaking lead her away from the edge of the palace where guards were a constant, to the inner chambers, where those worth guarding moved with a personal retinue rather than having patrols. The familiar sound of laughter filled her ears as she passed a door, and she paused to peek in.

Inside were Jamil, a few of the other dignitaries, including a Banker she recognized from Kou, and a pig faced man with a sour smile. Jamil had Morgiana at his side, one hand on her waist. 

"Well," said the pig-faced man, "since our slums are overflowing, I'm sure I'll be able to contribute a little something to the slave trade at large. We don't need people like that clogging our streets, and I'd much rather trade them for something that would be useful to me and the rest of the nobility." 

Jamil laughed. "Well, it'll still take a lot of slum rats to get you a Fanalis. Though exporting your own population overflow is honestly kind of ingenious. Almost makes me sorry that Qishan is so small!" 

The pig-faced man, who Kougyoku realized with horror was King Ahbmad, looked smug. "Well, that's why you let the breed and multiply for a while. At this rate, we have a limitless supply of them!" 

And everyone seemed to think this gross violation of human rights was a hilarious sentiment. They all laughed and joked and carried on as Kougyoku stepped away. That was what she was to marry. A man whose outside hid an even more repulsive inside. She was no stranger to slavery- it was practiced on reasonable terms in her own Kou- but the idea of selling off her own citizens like cattle sickened her. What ruler would be so short-sighted? So foolish? 

The more she thought, the more her blood boiled, and she stormed from the doorway. Perhaps someone else might have had good sense or compassion temper their anger, but Kougyoku could scarcely think as she stalked through the halls of the palace of Balbadd. How dare he. How _dare_ he? To make a decision like that for the kingdom... Kougyoku became twisted and turned in thought and direction, hopelessly lost in the palace's inner corridors. It was then that she heard a noise- voices, one wheedling and familiar, the other soft and resistant. 

She rounded the corner to see Jamil pinning his slave girl to a wall, saber drawn in threat but not in actual violence yet. His hand roved down her body, and Morgiana made soft noises as he kissed her forcefully. Kougyoku recoiled from the sight. She had seen things like this before- her own father had been a lecherous snake of a man that used women whenever and wherever he pleased. It was scandal, before he was Emperor. Then it was just tolerated. 

"Leave her alone." The order left her lips before she even had time to think it. Jamil turned, releasing Morgiana and leveling his saber at Kougyoku.

"Go away, servant girl," Jamil slurred. "My business with my slave is my own, unless you want to join in." 

Kougyoku's face flared hot and her hackles raised. "I am no servant girl!" She stepped forward until the blade was almost against her chest, and Jamil's face melted from anger as he realized his misstep. "I am the future queen of Balbadd, and you are a visiting dignitary from a patch of desert that barely qualifies as a nation. Let that girl be, or at least have the decency to give her privacy for the act." 

Jamil's expression was now one of slimy, sickly sweet supplication. "Oh, Princess! I didn't realize-" he fumbled his saber into its sheathe, nearly nicking his hand in the process. "I apologize for letting you see something so unsightly." He glanced over his shoulder. "Morgiana. Go back to the room and wait for me." Morgiana nodded and slipped away. Jamil returned his attention to Kougyoku, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Allow me to escort you back to your chambers."

* * *

By the time they made their way back to Kougyoku's room, dawn's kiss had made the morning sky flush a gentle pink, and Kougyoku felt herself proud to have at least delayed Jamil's assault for another night. But the following days of ceremony and fittings and last minute etiquette training left Kougyoku little time to wander. She was also kept under much closer guard, her first night's expedition having given Ka Kobun a fright half to death that his years of careful grooming had all gone to waste. In spite of that, or perhaps because of that, her mind still wandered- to Ahbmad's abhorrent nature, to thoughts of Morgiana's face, to the feeling that duty was all her fate had designed. When one of her attendants made an offhanded comment expressing their excitement for royal heirs, she nearly retched.

And then that high and anointed time came- her wedding night. There was feasting, song, speeches; all the ceremony and pomp that Kougyoku had imagined for herself since she was a young girl dreaming of true love and serving her country. Ahbmad leered at her with open hunger, taking in her jewels and her foreign beauty, and beckoned her close. 

"Come now," he said, "give me a kiss." He puckered his lips expectantly, and Kougyoku's stomach went sour. No. No, she would not- could not- do this. Her now husband's face drew closer and she-

The smack rang out like a deafening thunderclap. All eyes stared, disbelieving, and before the shock could wear off, Kougyoku lifted her skirts and ran. If there were shouts for her to slow, she did not hear them. There was no deep monologue or turmoil to her thoughts. She simply needed to be gone. She fled from the hall and from the inner courts, and down into the twisting gardens. Word of her flight could not run faster than she did.

And yet, there was someone waiting for her in the gardens. Kougyoku collided with Morgiana like running into a brick wall, and she bounced backwards. Only Morgiana's hand, snapping out to grab her wrist like an iron shackle, kept her from falling to the ground. Morgiana's eyes were unreadable.

"You can't run away," she said. "I'm taking you back."

Kougyoku felt her heart sink, and she yanked back on her wrist. "Unhand me." Morgiana just gripped tighter and shook her head. Apparently orders would not work. "I will not marry that pig. Come with me, and I'll reward you handsomely. Freedom from your weasel of a master. A position in my court!" 

"You just gave up your court."

"I am royalty in my own right!" An angry, embarrassed flush took Kougyoku's cheeks. "Kou values strength- you would be celebrated there." 

For a moment, Morgiana's stony gaze softened, considering Kougyoku's words. Kougyoku tried again to pull her wrist free, and the moment ended. "I'd just be in different shackles. Kou keeps slaves just as here, and a Fanalis slave will never be free."

"But-" 

"Who do you think is buying the slaves that Balbadd is selling?" Morgiana retaliated. "Who do you think gave them the idea?"

The accusation, nay, the _realization,_ hit Kougyoku harder than any blow could. Of course. Of course Kou was behind this, as they were with any other major change that had come to Balbadd since the death of their last king. Kougyoku could feel herself starting to despair with every passing moment, and she could not even find it in her to argue with Morgiana's thinking. Her kingdom was not her own, and it was not a place that would look kindly upon her flight. Behind them, the palace was erupting with sound as guards began to search for her. Panic nested with the despair in her breast. "Please," Kougyoku begged. "We can go together. We could-"

"Aah, good girl, Morgiana." Morgiana and Kougyoku both jumped at the sound of Jamil's voice. "I knew I could trust your nose to find her." 

The man himself came striding up, flanked by palace guards. 

Kougyoku forced herself to breathe, to temper her panic. The revelations of her country's wickedness could be dealt with later, when the immediate peril had passed. Morgiana's grip loosened as Jamil came close, and when he grabbed Kougyoku's chin, Morgiana released Kougyoku entirely and stepped back. Kougyoku breathed deeply and waited. 

"You shouldn't go wandering around like that! You might get hurt, or go missing for good." The chastisement felt like a threat. "I feel bad that Ahbmad's been saddled with such a troublesome wife. Even my slaves are more loyal." Kougyoku hunched her shoulders and mumbled a reply. Jamil raised an eyebrow. "Eh?" he said, leaning closer. "What was that?" There were two guards that had come with Jamil. Neither were paying that much attention. Kougyoku mumbled again, and Jamil scowled, leaning in until his face was almost touching Kougyoku's. "Speak up, or don't speak at all." Two guards would not be much trouble at all.

"I said that you don't deserve loyalty from a dog, let alone a human being!" she snarled, and then she headbutted Jamil square in the nose. He howled like a struck animal, and as he staggered back, Kougyoku's hand flashed out to grab his saber from the hilt. The guards drew, clumsily and far too slow to stop her from knocking their blades away. Kougyoku backed up, bumping against Morgiana again. She looked at Morgiana, and the two girls shared a look- surprise from Morgiana, determination and pleading from Kougyoku. 

And then it was Kougyoku's turn to look surprised as Morgiana swept her up into her arms and turned, bolting up and over the garden wall. Behind them Jamil was shouting, and the guards were trying to rally a force, but it was all gone before either girl could give room for doubt.

They had to throw away most of Kougyoku's finery. Morgiana ripped the outer layers loose in a back alley, silent as she worked. Kougyoku, too, was quiet, and so they let the bouncing tinkle of beads and the shush of falling fabric be the words between them. Once Kougyoku was loose enough that she could move without starting a symphony of jangling jewels, they slipped through the slum streets and into the night. Morgiana's nose led them down to the seaport, and Kougyoku bartered them passage onto a ship with some of her remaining jewelry. They spent the night huddled together in the hold, and at some point, they slept. 

When Kougyoku awoke the ship was at sea, and Morgiana was sitting silently beside her, vibrating with tension. Kougyoku rubbed at her eyes.

"Have you been awake long?" she asked, eyeing how white Morgiana's knuckles were over her loose dress. 

Morgiana nodded shortly. "I woke up when the ship started moving."

Kougyoku tried to smile benevolently. "You get used to it. Before long you won't be able to feel the movement at all." 

Morgiana grunted and nodded, but Kougyoku didn't think the other girl believed her. Kougyoku worried her lower lip, looking Morgiana over, and then scooted closer.

"Here," she said, "let me comb out your hair. Maybe that will take your mind off it." Kougyoku dug through her few remaining fineries and plucked out a jeweled hair comb. Morgiana did not protest as Kougyoku gently undid her side ponytail and began to work knots from her hair. There wasn't much tangle of note to deal with- just the usual wear and tear of a restless night- but Kougyoku found a soothing rhythm in working out the tangles. She hoped that Morgiana felt the same. 

"This boat isn't bound for Kou," Morgiana said after a little bit.

"I know," Kougyoku replied. Hearing Morgiana say Kou brought up a well of emotions in Kougyoku's breast that she could not find the words to name. Betrayal and sick disgust at Kou's hand in Balbadd's wicked enslavement of its own people, terror at her own uncertain future, and so, so many other things. Her hands stopped combing.

Morgiana looked over her shoulder. "I think you did the right thing though, even if it was foolish."

"I… Thank you. And thank you for running away with me. I think together we'll go quite far." Kougyoku sighed heavily and looked down at her hands. "Even if I don't know where on earth I want to go." 

Morgiana looked thoughtful. "I… want to see my homeland. Where the Fanalis came from, so far away. I don't know what it looks like, but I want to. Will you go with me?" 

Kougyoku looked up once more, startled. "I- Yes. Yes, I think that would be quite good." 

Morgiana smiled, and opened her mouth, but was caught off by a crash against the boat. "What-"

And then the sea was splitting and the boat rocking, and Kougyoku felt anger at herself for rushing to sea, and helplessness. She reached out for Mogiana as the waves grew higher, and then everything went black.

* * *

Cold. The stone below Kougyoku was cold and moist, and when she lifted her head it felt heavy, as though full of rocks. She could distantly hear the lapping of waves, and she forced herself up onto her hands and knees, looking around. She was in a grotto, alive, and Morgiana lay by her side, unconscious but still breathing. Kougyoku picked herself up, her skinned hands stinging on the sandy, salty rocks. There was no sign of the boat they'd ridden upon, or the crew that had offered them passage. Kougyoku sighed, feeling anger and helplessness bubble up in her chest. She should have been more cautious, and now because of her foolishness, she and Morgiana were both most likely going to die. 

"Daughter of Man," a voice boomed in her head. "Do you wish to be free?"

Kougyoku whipped around to find herself face-to-massive-face with an imposing draconic face. The dragon's scales were the shimmering blue of the ocean, and from her brow burst a spray of golden horns like a glittering crown. Kougyoku's eyes went wide, and she fell down into a kowtow.

The dragon laughed. "You know me?"

Kougyoku's voice trembled slightly as she spoke, her brow pressed against the stone. "You're the dragon queen Vinea, who rules the seas."

Vinea practically purred at Kougyoku's response. "You are correct. Rise, Daughter of Man." 

Kougyoku lifted her head, but stayed respectfully kneeled before the great queen of the seas. "Are you the one who sank our ship?" 

Vinea's tail unfurled from the water to rest beneath her chin. "The tides of the sea are mine, but they are also their own. If they feel they deserve a tithe of blood, who am I to intervene? But you two interested me, and so I plucked you from the sea's coffers. Tell me, Daughter of Man, do you have a heart full of jealous rage and tragedy?" 

"I…." Kougyoku looked down at her hands. 

"That girl there…" Vinea said, glancing to Morgiana. "Her heart is still searching for its purpose. She is bold, but she is not of my kind. If she would pick any master, it should be herself, or, failing that, she should swear it to someone like you, who values her on her own merits." 

Kougyoku looked to the unconscious Morgiana and then back to the dragon. She stepped between the two, perhaps a little defensively.

"Your heart though…" Vinea's tail turned Kougyoku's face back to her. "It is full of passion. For her. For your own noble principles." A smile twisted Vinea's fanged maw. "Swear yourself to me, O Daughter of Man, and I shall make you a queen who needs no petty man to claim her title. Swear yourself and you shall be queen of the seas."

Kougyoku lifted her head high and stood to meet Vinea's gaze. "Give me your power! There are people I need to protect, and if I had the seas on my side, no one would be able to stop me." She held out her hand. "Dragon Queen, I swear myself to you!"

* * *

There is a story of Pirate Queen, reforged from noble finery to most vicious steel, who rules the seas to this day. She has sailed from the farthest lands to ones that are farther still, and any lady upon the sea who needs her aid need only speak her name to invoke her aid. Invoke her name, and she will come, with the fury of the sea and the softness of a summer breeze, and those who need her aid will fly free as birds.


	7. Chapter 7

"I wonder..." The man was on his feet, leaned by the window. "Why is it that all your tales seem to trickle back to people leaving behind who they once were? The lost prince, the man who wanted to become king, the girl who wanted to leave behind her repugnant lover...."

Sinbad's brow knitted. "Coincidence, honestly. It makes for a good story, doesn't it?"

The man shrugged. "It was just an observation. I wondered if it was because you wanted to just sail away from your problems, or maybe that you wish you could wash away your own past." 

Sinbad sucked in a breath, staring at the man who wore his dearest friend's face. "I… That is to say…" He didn't have an answer to the accusation, and a silence stretched between them. The man stared back at him, patient, waiting. 

Sinbad was not the first one to look away. "Like I said, it was just an observation. Though maybe you do have some guilt over your actions if the thought makes you so uncomfortable that it actually shuts you up." 

"One more story," Sinbad said softly. 

"Can you delay the dawn the way you've delayed me?" 

"One more," he pleaded. "And I swear this one is true. Trust me, Ja'far. You'd know if it were lies." 

The man did not look back at Sinbad, but his shoulders stiffened. "They're coming for you at sunrise, Sin. Make it quick."

"Once, there was a boy. A foolish, brave boy, from a village by the sea, who lost his father and mother to the cruelties of fate. A boy who thought himself a man far too soon, who built an empire on stories and promises and lies and friendships, and who flew so high that he became the sort of person who could do the things he had hated when he was low." Sinbad rose, his chains clanking against each other as he slowly crossed to the window. "But he was lucky, for before he grew those wings that took him so high, he met someone who was truly loyal, someone who loved him enough to stop him if he ever became the sort of crooked person he so hated." Sinbad looked out the slat of the window, not at the man. "And one day, the time came that fortune reversed, and the boy, now a man, stood to face his death in a tall tower. But he was grateful, in a fashion, to know that the thing that came to guide him from this world to the next wore the face of his truest friend." He swallowed tightly. "I don't know what happens after that. After this." 

Ja'far laughed and shook his head, finally looking over at Sinbad. "And even in the very end you can't tell the whole truth." 

Sinbad laughed too, the affectionate sound in Ja'far's voice an oasis in the desert of his uncertainty. "I guess I'm just a showman at heart. Though, I think I was very honest." 

"In comparison." Ja'far forced his face back to a more neutral expression and looked out at the skyline. "The sun is rising. You should have been gone by now."

"Do you really think you can kill me?" 

"I always told you I would have your back, Sin." Ja'far's tone was perfectly neutral, a diplomat's speech. "And that if you ever became something you hated, that I would stop you." 

Sinbad saw the flash before he saw the blade, and that gave him all the signal he needed to throw up his manacles in defense. The rope dart snagged, and Sinbad twisted, yanking hard. Ja'far let the line go slack and lept back, but Sinbad did not release the dart. He gripped the line in his hand, freeing his chains, and ducked when the second came sailing at his head. Ja'far swore, and Sinbad yanked again on the line, dashing in to close the gap. Distance was death.

Ja'far swung a hand up, and the dart clutched in it raked up Sinbad's off arm, loosing an arc of blood. Sinbad didn't stop though, and they collided, falling backwards into the table. It flipped with a crash, and they hit the ground badly, half spread over the table and half on the hard stone floor. Sinbad's mouth found Ja'far's, and they kissed with the passion of old rivals. Ja'far bucked, kicking his legs up between them and pushing Sinbad off. The blow knocked the wind out of Sinbad, and he lay sprawled on the floor, bleeding and gasping. 

Sinbad clutched the line of Ja'far's dart as tight as he could, but he knew it would do no good. The second dart was still in Ja'far's hands as he stood, wiping blood and spittle from the corner of his mouth with the back of his free hand. 

"I'm sorry, Sin," he said, sounding genuinely remorseful, "but tonight King Sinbad dies." 

The flash of steel came before Sinbad could find his wind again, before he could react, and he watched the dart sail at his head. 

But the killing blow didn't come. The dart thunked into the stone just in front of Sinbad's face, and Ja'far strode after it, bending down over Sinbad. "Don't move." He roughly grabbed Sinbad's ponytail and raked the dart through it, and then the shorn hair disappeared into the folds of Ja'far's clothes. Then Ja'far's hands were on him, yanking his hand up by the manacle and inserting a thin metal rod into the keyhole until there was a dull clinking noise, and it fell away into Ja'far's hand. He did the same for the other shackle, and then he pressed a key into Sinbad's hand. Sinbad could feel a dumb look sitting on his face, but after a sleepless night of bad wine and desperate tales, he could not find the words to explain what was happening. Ja'far looked smug at his speechlessness. "I told you from the beginning, Sin. I came here to make you disappear." He looked around at the room. "I think that wound of yours has bled enough to make a convincing murder scene." He ripped off his outer cloak- more a winding of wide cloth than a proper defense against the elements- and wrapped it tight around Sinbad's wounded arm. "You can walk still, right?" 

Sinbad could feel the coldness of shock setting in, both from his wound and from his confusion. "I- yes- but?" He laughed mirthlessly, staring up at Ja'far in utter bewilderment. "King Sinbad dies tonight?"

Ja'far took that as agreement enough to haul Sinbad to his feet. "They'll come in to quite the scene. Their 'star prisoner' dead by a mysterious assassin, the body spirited away. A fitting end. And you," he said, producing the key he'd used to gain entry to the room and opening the door once again, "can have some time to think about what you've done while we keep our heads down for a while somewhere far from here. What do you say?" 

Sinbad laughed, the feeling of confusion and incredulity still rattling him a bit. "Well when you put it like that, dying sounds like a fabulous adventure indeed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to read this odd story of stories. I hope you all enjoyed it, and regardless of your feelings on it, please share your thoughts! I love seeing how people feel about my work and how I can improve!


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